


A Canvas of Velvet Sky

by Lilbluebox



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Gen, POV Outsider, Siblings, The Fall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 09:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20468606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilbluebox/pseuds/Lilbluebox
Summary: Raphael Falls. Raphael Falls, and things are never the same after that.





	A Canvas of Velvet Sky

Raphael Falls. Raphael Falls, and things are never the same after that. 

Gabriel remembers his brother with an ache he doesn’t like to peer at too closely, lest it hurt more. He remembers a pleased grin, remembers stardust settling in ringlets of copper-red hair, remembers the scent of space and eternity gathering around Raphael in clouds of creation as his brother shapes the stars. He remembers an artist painting details on a canvas of velvet sky, remembers a healer whose gentle touch soothed all ills, remembers slender fingers smoothing away a crease in his worried brow. He remembers starlight in his brother’s eyes, remembers the touch of space in a kiss placed upon his forehead that cools the ache of war, remembers how when Raphael ruffled his hair, he left behind a scattering of stardust that glimmered for hours until it faded away. 

But most of all, Gabriel remembers the questions. Raphael is not content to take the world, the universe, all of creation as it is. Raphael is curious, a creative force of kindness wrapped up in robes and stardust, questions ever at the tip of his tongue, the yearning for answers shining out of his starlight eyes. Every other word out of Raphael’s mouth is ‘why’ or ‘how’ or ‘do you ever wonder if’, and Gabriel remembers how exhausting a conversation with Raphael could be, because the questions simply never ended. “What do you think you’re doing, getting yourself chopped nearly in half?” he remembers Raphael demanding as healing starlight pulses from his brother to heal his wounds, and remembers even more clearly the, “Don’t answer that, you idiot, you’ll hurt yourself more,” when Gabriel tries to reply. 

Gabriel remembers wondering why Raphael asks questions to which he doesn’t want or expect answers, but later realizes that Raphael had probably invented the art of rhetorical questions just for the sake of his patients. His brethren. His siblings.

And then -

The War is terrible, and Raphael’s face goes drawn and thin as he leaves the stars to heal. Lucifer Falls, the Morningstar, a comet hurtling out of Heaven, and Raphael watches with fire burning his starlight eyes, questions, questions, ever questions dancing at the tip of his tongue. 

Gabriel remembers Raphael’s scream as the whys and the hows and the whats tear wordlessly from his throat and he Falls, consumed by flames. He remembers stardust burning in the atmosphere, remembers charred feathers tearing free and floating up near his face, remembers charcoal dusting his face as he watches his brother Fall for asking questions God refused to answer. 

Gabriel remembers how questions caused his brother’s Fall, and bans questions from Heaven entirely.

Michael remembers how Raphael’s eyes glinted gold when the light hit it just right, when starlight gleamed with mischief that heralded a tweaked nose or a particularly saucy question, but she’s told herself to forget far too often to connect it to the pair of golden snake-slit eyes she meets when she delivers holy water to Hell. 

It’s just as well, really. Crowley likes his name as is.


End file.
